Fen'Harel's Gift
by Serenity's Arrow
Summary: The Dalish know better then to call upon the Dread wolf, but she didn't listen. So when the great Hero of Ferelden travels all across Thedas to find her love, and finds him in the arms of another woman, it seems that Fen'Harel has finally caught up to her. Can Zevran win her back, before all the lies and secrets tear them apart, forever? Had to change rating from T to M, for L & V
1. Arrow

Wynne felt her heart stop. She felt the ache, and as she clutched at the fabric that laid over where her heart would be, she couldn't look away. Away from him. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw him kiss the black haired woman. One of his hands was buried in the woman's short hair, the other was slowly undoing the woman's buckles to her leather armor. She was close enough to them to know that it was him, but from the angle that she was at, she couldn't see his face. Or the other woman's.

She tried so hard to stop the tears, to push them back, but they fell across her heavily tattooed face and onto the boulder that she was perched on. Her dark forest green eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the horrible scene. She tried but it wasn't any use. The last time she had seen him was six years ago. Before she took the position of the Warden Commander, and before he left to go settle some debts in his home country. He had told her that he had loved her. He had seen her go through the pain of losing someone, and he had helped her through it. He had had her back through it all. Even at the end, when she had kissed him goodbye before they stormed the top of Fort Drakkon to finish what she had started. What they started.

Her right hand absently touched the dark green emerald earring that dangled from the tip of her left ear. It was a gift from him, a gift that told her that he loved her, and that he had always wanted to be with her. But now...she couldn't believe it.

She finally found the strength to look away from the nightmare that was playing out for her when she realized that the other woman's leathers chest plate was removed, as well as his. Anger welled up in her, pushing back the shock, and pain that had quickly overpowered her. Gritting her teeth, she yanked off the dark blue hood setting her long silver white hair free. Placing a recently fletched arrow to her bow, she stood up, drew back the arrow, and took aim at the couple that were completely oblivious to her. Tears now freely fell from her cheeks as she looked at them. Then, after taking a quick breath she raised her arrow just right in the air and when she exhaled, she let the arrow fly.

Her eyes followed it as it flew in the air. Her lips silently said a prayer to Andruil as she watched it gather height then quickly turn and descend on its target.

When the arrow hit him, he jumped back in alarm and pain. She knew it would take much more than that to bring him down, and as soon as the black haired woman saw that he was hit, she lunged for her daggers that were tossed aside only a few moments ago.

She stood tall, drawing every strength she had left in her. She felt broken, but she couldn't let him see it. Not now. She didn't back down either, as he slowly pulled the arrow from his shoulder and look around to see where it came from. Unlike the other woman, who was now quickly putting her leathers back on with her head quickly turning and looking all around, he calmly looked at the arrow then slowly up. As if he knew it was her, she saw him look directly at her and froze. A warm wind from the coast rose, mingling and twirling Wynne's silver hair into the air, and only when it died down did she move.

Gracefully like a deer being hunted, she jumped down from the boulder, onto the sandy path and ran. She knew how to hide her trail, and quickly jumped back onto another rock ridge. Leaping from rock to rock, she finally made it down to the coast line and ran as fast as she could away from that place. Away from him.

She thought she could hear him, yelling her name after her, telling her to stop, but she didn't, couldn't, believe it. She refused to even look back, and only when she knew she wasn't being followed, did she hide in a cave.

Wynne Mahariel, Dalish Hunter, Hero of Ferelden, Commander of the Grey Wardens, collapsed on the ground and cried.


	2. Drinking to Oblivion, and Small World

A/N :

Ok. First off hello. :) Secondly, this story takes place about a year or two after Wynne defeats the blight. I am putting Zevran meeting the Hawke sooner. This story should go through most, if not all of Act III. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"You sure it wasn't the Crows?"

Zevran looked from the red head mage that was healing his shoulder, to the Champion of Kirkwall, as she paced back and forth in front of them.

"Oh I'm sure. She's Dalish and the only ones who could fletch arrows like that, are Dalish."

"And use fleshrot poison apparently. The old Commander of the Grey Wardens was Dalish, and she loved making all sorts of poisons. Flesh rot was her favorite." Spoke up the mage as he poured some contents of a potion onto a clean white cloth, then pressed it against Zevran's shoulder.

"Yes, well she is known to have a temper." Zevran hissed as pain issued from his wound.

"Same with the Commander." The mage removed the cloth from the shoulder and threw it into the fire behind Zevran. All three were in one of the smaller rooms in the Hawke estate. Zevran himself claimed this room for a few nights after running into the Champion at one of the many parties that he kept sneaking into. Turns out that one of the Antivan crows that Zevran was hunting, was also a slave trader, something which the dear Champion found out during the festivities. Needless to say, Zevran joined up soon afterward.

"So you know who she is?"

"Yes, well she is my fiancee," Zevran grinned at the Champion. "...and the Hero of Ferelden."

* * *

Losing herself to both drink and thoughts, Wynne had seated herself in the back corner at the Hanged Man a few hours later. Her dark blue hood was back up, hiding her face from the world as she took another swig of the foul drink that was in front of her.

Vomit rose in her throat as her mind quickly replayed the images over and over again. Anger and grief threatened to make a comeback as she slowly placed the mug back down onto the table before her shaking hands spilled the contents of it all over herself. She had to regain control, but how could she? She had loved him. More then anything in the world, and he betrayed her. He had promised that he would come back to her, and make her his wife. That she was the only one for him, that she was the only thing in this world that kept him going.

And she believed every single word out of his mouth.

Taking a deep breath Wynne closed her eyes and tried to calm down and think. Think about what to do next, since she just basically wasted five precious years on him.

She didn't leave on good terms with the Grey Wardens, or if her tribe would welcome her back. She didn't even know if she wanted to go back to either since she had spent so much time on the road, that staying in one place for more than a few weeks felt odd. And did she really want to go back to Ferelden? Having to explain everything to Alistar? To look him dead in the eye and tell him that he was right, that he was always right? No. No she couldn't. At least not now. Now all she wanted to do was drink the night away, and curl up in the nice warm bed that awaited her in the room that she had rented.

Picking up the mug again, she swirled the drink around, watching the yellow liquid swirl, and bubble. Tears again threatened to spill as she couldn't help but think of him. She tried to blame it on her now drunken stupor as she quickly downed the rest of what the barman called "The Hairy Dwarf".Slamming the now empty mug on the table, Wynne tried to stand but she had to quickly sit down as she found the world around her started to tilt. Flinging her hood back in frustration, Wynne placed her head in her hands and closed her eyes trying to keep the world still. But it wasn't going so good. She never really got used to the humans drinks much to everyone's delight back in the good ole days. Sighing, Wynne peeked through her fingers as she looked down at the table.

_So far...so good_

Tilting her head up Wynne slowly took in the room and the people around her. It wasn't really full, and there wasn't really anything noteworthy about anything really. The floors were just as dirty as any other inn she visited, and the barmaids were just as sassy as any she had met. The only thing that really caught her eye was the elf that sat a couple of tables away from her. After a few minutes of regaining some clarity, she noticed that he was staring at her. Frowning she sat up and stared back. She really couldn't focus in on him, or really tell what he looked like so far away, but what she did notice was that he had white hair like hers, and that he had strange tattoos all over his arms.

"What?" Wynne demanded as she continued her staring contest with the other elf. "Wh-what's your problem?" He didn't say anything to her, just kept staring, and that was making the slightly drunk Wynne agitated. "D-do you know who I am?"

The other elf just leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and replayed, "No. And I don't care to know either."

Wynne nodded and looked at her empty mug and mumbled, "Good. Cause I don't want you to." She slowly stood up and carefully made her way to the bar for another drink. She handed the barkeeper the money that was due, and raised the glass to her lips and took another swig of the drink. Slowly but surely she drank herself into oblivion.


	3. Plans are Made

A/N: Alright. I have learned my lesson of writing up a quick chapter between work, and class. :) I re-edited the first two chapters, and hopefully after reading this three times, I won't go over this chapter again.

* * *

It was all rather amusing to Zevran to tell the truth. He just sat there watching Anders basically lose control and leave. The mage tried to get answers out of the assassin, but Zevran kept any answer of his short. He did try to calm the former Grey Warden, by saying "...if she had wanted you back, she would have dragged you kicking and screaming years ago."

But alas, it didn't work. So about after what felt like an hour and a half of both his attempts, and the Champion's, Anders finally left to go "get some air." By that, Zevran was pretty sure of a drink. Which to him, didn't sound half bad at this point since he was starting to crack. He had learned long ago to put emotions aside, but ever since being the Warden so long ago, he had forgotten how to do so. And the way the Champion looked didn't help his cause.

She just stood there, in front of him, with her hands on either side of her hips, legs shoulder width apart, and her head bent, facing the ground. He knew she was thinking of the mess that she, and him, had gotten themselves into. Shifting in his chair, Zevran tried to think of anything to say to comfort her. They were both drunk, and from what he had witnessed from the mage that shared her bed, he could tell that she was hurting.

It had started off innocently enough, well innocently as anything could get with him involved. A few drinks with Isabella, the Champion, and the dwarf named Varric, soon turned into something that he now regretted. Resting his elbows on his legs, he looked at her waiting. She needed to start the conversation, so he could figure out what to say. They needed a plan to deal with this as soon as possible, as he knew that Wynne would either vanish, or attack again. And he wasn't going to settle on her leaving. He had said a long time ago that he would storm the Black City itself gladly by her side, if she would have him there, and by the Maker he would fight to stay there.

Finally after what seemed like eternity, the Champion spoke. "He can't find out about what happened."

That caught Zevran's attention. "It may be better if you tell him now, then having him find out some other way."

"No. He can never find out."

"Never is a very tricky word to use Champion."

"DAMNIT!" The Champion twirled around, and knocked the stack of books, that was sitting on the desk behind her, to the floor. "I-I didn't mean for it to happen."

"The stack of books or earlier?"

The Champion took the edge of her sleeve and quickly wiped at her face as she turned around to face Zevran. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Zevran held up one of hand's to silence her.

"What's done is done. We cannot fret about the past, as the present demands our attention." He met her sky blue eyes with his own honey gold ones and smiled gently. "You are definitely are an amazing woman Champion, but I am afraid that we are going to need a plan to deal with the storm called Wynne."

The Champion nodded her head, and leaned up against the desk. "If I am to help you, you need to call me Hawke at least. Only Orsino, or Meredith call me Champion, I am rather starting to hate it."

Zevran laughed at that last remark. "I can see why. Now tell me Hawke...since you and the Warden are so much alike...what would you do if you were her?"

Hawke smiled and replied, "Drink of course."

* * *

Despite having one of the worst headaches she could remember, Wynne had spent most of the afternoon trading her old gear, and traps for things that she desperately needed. Leather, a whetstone, sinew, clothes, and soap. She wanted to shop for more things, but after a while she thought she had heard her name being called, and quickly left. Not wanting to take the chance of running into Zevran, or the black haired whore, Wynne silently made her way through the maze like layout of Lowtown, to the Hanged Man. There she was planning on taking a long nice bath, and working on what old gear she had left. Her dragon scale armor was falling apart at the seams, and it needed more then a quick fix. So now that she didn't need to rush off when she got word, or heard of Zevran, she finally had the time to mend it.

She was actually looking forward to the work ahead of her, and was too distracted by her thoughts when she entered the Hanged Man, to even remember to put her hood back over her head. Casually crossing the main floor, Wynne was too busy thinking about how to fix the torn strap to notice a beardless dwarf, talking to a dark haired woman.

"Alright Rivaini I think you finally had too much to drink. There is no way the Hero of Ferelden was her. Haven't you heard any of my stories?"


	4. Regular Clothing

A/N: Sorry for making this chapter short! I intended to have the fight scene in this one, but my lovely sister, (who is staying with me for a few days,) wanted to get out of the house, and forced me off the computer. I should get the next chapter in later today.

Thank you all for reading! Enjoy. :)

* * *

Wynne had worked well into the night by reshaping leather, and trying to fix whatever was left of her old gear. Most of it what she had lugged around were nothing more than sentimental. Her dragon scale armor that she had upgraded in the Keep of Amarathine before leaving, was now tattered with broken scales, and ripping leather. She had long ago stopped using it, as she had to adapt to the more stealthy one-on-one approach. Wearing leather under her baggy shirts, pants, or even dresses, gave her more flexibility, and security when walking the streets, or roads of any city. As it turns out, elves who walked around armored and armed to the teeth were more noticeable than one who simply just wore regular clothing.

Wynne had learned many things during the past few years. Like how the leather bits that hung around the legs basically did nothing. In most fights, single or melee, it was a lot easier to disable your opponent by striking them at the legs, then it was to strike at the head, or chest first. To combat this, Wynne had developed leather thigh armor that not only protected her legs, but it cost a lot less sovereigns to buy leather, then the whole legs itself.

She had just finished taking some old non-broken dragon scale, from her old gear, shaped it, and sewn it on to the outside of her leather legs, when her stomach spoke up for food. Sighing Wynne grabbed her dark blue cloak, and a couple of coins, and headed out to the tarven.

She made it to the bar with no incident, paid the man for bread and cheese, she made her way back up to her room. She really didn't pay attention to the other people in the rooms, so when her eyes finally drifted to the huge suite she froze for a second. Then she turned on her heel, like nothing was the matter and made her way to her room. After closeing the door like normal, she went into a packing frenzy. Flinging off her cloak, she quickly flung off her shirt and grabbed for her leather curaiss. As she strapped it on, she walked over to her supplies and mentally sorted through them. When she was done with her armor, she quickly took a small cloth bag and dumped ingredients and potions into it, all the while in complete and utter disbelief at what she saw.

Wynne knew that she would run into the black haired woman eventually, but she didn't think it would be this soon. As Wynne quickly lined the straps on her arms, and legs with throwing knives she there was only one action to take. Her revenge wouldn't be so well planned, but at least it was something. She would strike at the whore, then disappear, hopefully with her Dalish Clan, before anyone was wiser. Going back to her bag, she quickly rifled through it to find what was left of her Quiet Death poison. She then took one of her throwing knives from both her left and right arms, and quickly dipped the tip of each point in it. it didn't take much poison to get the desired effect, as she really didn't want to kill, the woman per say. All she wanted to to do, was to make her seriously ill for the next week. And if she died, well, it was Elgar'nan's wish.

She then carefully strapped them to the underside of her wrist, with her bracers protecting her skin from the deadly point. Carefully she grabbed her tunic and brought it over her head, then tied it in place with her leather belt. She turned to the mirror, took her dagger, Dumat's Claw, in one hand and chopped most of her long hair in the other. It had been ages since she had short hair, and she knew that her long hair would give her away to the human. Tying both Dumat's Spine, and Dumat's Claw back to their places on her belt, and back she then threw her cloak over her arm and walked out of the room.

The time was now.

* * *

"...so maybe Rivaini didn't drink too much after all." Varric was sitting comfortably in his favorite chair next to the roaring fire that he always had going. His hands were folded in his lap, as Hawke finished telling him her story of what recently happened. Something that she normally would do on any regular basis. He was her sounding board on any quests, or ideas that would come up lately, even more so now that she was the Champion of Kirkwall. Hawke knew better then anyone that he wouldn't judge her, and in fact he had grown increasingly worried about her safety with Anders. A fact that he kept bringing up over their daily conversations. But that wasn't what was unnerving her at that moment. It was the lack of a smile that he usually had on his face.

"You are positive that the elf who spotted you was in fact her?"

"Yes."

Varric sighed, then scratched the side of his face. "So what's your plan?"

"I don't know, Master Dwarf, I was hoping you could tell me." Hawke smiled at him, as she leaned across the table closer to him. "You know all the stories about her, what do you think would be the best play?"

Deep in thought Varric didn't even bother saying something witty, something that started to play at her nerves. "I think the best course of action would be to lay low. Until she leaves. You have enough problems on your plate with the Mages and Templars. The less you have to deal with her, the better." He looked up at her when he finished. "You don't have to have me tell you what happens when a woman finds her man in another woman's arms." He laughed at that, then reached for his mug and finished the contents of it off. "At least now I get to write when the greatest two heroes of our time meet." He pushed the mug to the side, for when a barmaid made her rounds she could get it.

"Is it going to be spectacular? Like when I fought off two dragons at once?"  
"Maybe..." Varric started, as a barmaid came into the room, and grabbed the mug. Neither of them paid much attention to her like they usually did but then, as the maid walked behind Hawke, she froze. "Hawke...don't move!"

Freezing in her spot, Hawke heard the velvety voice of Zevran say from behind her, "My dear Warden...what have you done to your lovely hair?"

* * *

She was angry. She was beyond angry, as she stood there with her concealed blade in her left hand only a few inches away from the human's neck. All Wynne had to do was push a little more with her arm, or have the blasted woman turn her head. But either of those plans were impossible thanks to Zevran.

His fingers were wrapped around her left wrist like a death grip, and she could feel the soft pressure of a knife at the base of her neck. She was so close!

"Thought you might like it shorter. Like the good old days Zev," she said with as much honey and sweetness as she could muster. She then relaxed her arms, and slowly backed up with Zevran from her target. "You remember how we used to stay up all night with those archery and knife throwing constets? And how drunk we got when we did them?"

She could feel his body, tight against hers. So hard, so warm, so protective. Tears threatened to make an appearnce when he chuckled, "Yes."

"You remember what you asked me during one of them?" Wynne took another step back with Zevran's, and when he stopped she stopped. Not waiting for his answer she conintued. "The moon was out, and Orghren passed out drunk."

"He was normally drunk mon ami..."

"...You were drunk, and you asked me to dance with you under the moonlight. I have always regretted saying no. But Zev...would you like to dance?"

As soon as she asked the question, Wynne lifted her right leg, stomped on his foot, and twirled out of his embrace.


	5. Dancing

A/N: Sorry for not uploading it like I said I would. Also, I tried to use some Elven terms, but I think I messed it up. I will have what I was trying to say at the bottom. Anyways, enjoy the little fight scene. Also, I would highly suggest listening to the song, "Kiss With a Fist" by Florence and the Machines, as I wrote this chapter while listening to the song.

Again I do not own anything, as it is a world owned by bioware. Enjoy :)

Also a huge thank you for all the people who either favorited, have this story on alert, or reviewed. It means alot to me. :)

* * *

As she stepped out of the twirl and looked over at Zevran. Wynne smiled at him, then walked down the stairs to the bar part of the building. It was big enough, and she jumped the last step, landing with a thud to the main floor

"Where are you going?" Laughed Zevran, from behind her as he fallowed her.

"Why there is more room down here to dance, then that stuffy hallway." She walked to the middle, or where there was no one drinking. Honestly she didn't know what time it was, but said a brief thank you prayer to Elgar'nan for it being so dead.

She stopped at a table at the far end of the room, took off her belt, and pulled her dark blue tunic over her head. Then slowly and nonchalantly, she removed the throwing knives that she had hidden on her person. The two from her wrists where first, she laid them carefully on the table, then she slammed the rest into the table. With each thud as a warning about how deadly she really was. Finished, she stripped herself of her leather breastplate and laid that among the various knives that adorned the table. Wynne then ripped a piece of fabric from her shirt and bounded her hair as much as she could on the top of her head. Then taking two pieces of scrap leather she started to wrap it around her knuckles when she finally turned around.

Zevran only smiled to himself as she stood in front of him, with having only her small clothes that bound her breasts tightly to her chest, and her loose black pants on.

"Well?" she said, as she let go of the piece of leather in her mouth that she held as she bound her hands. "You gonna dance? Or are you too scared of the pretty elf girl?"

He chuckled, as he said, "Only if you wish me to dance...ma'fen..." He then unbuckled his leather armor.

She only smirked at him, when his armor hit the ground with a clink. "You know better then to call me that right now." He didn't look at her, as slowly he removed any throwing daggers from his person.

"Oh but ma'fen is what I call you. And you know how I love to say it." He too removed his cream colored shirt from his body, showing her, and every other female in the establishment all his tattoos, muscles, and scars. Wynne's eyes narrowed, as she tried to focus on what was going on. She knew he did that as a distraction, but so did she.

Placing one hand on her hip, she lifted her chin and said, "You ready? Velasco?" She purred at saying the little word that she had picked up on her travels. She turned her head and smiled her famous smile at him.

That seemed to have worked, since he froze when he placed his shirt on the table.

"Only if you wish it, ma'Fen." He turned to her and opened his arms, telling her to come to him.

"Yes, please." With that Wynne, grabbed one of the tables that separated her and him, and tossed it to the side with all her strength. It didn't go very far, as she was a small elf, but it did skid across the floor before slamming into another empty table. Knocking both over.

Tightening her fists into balls, she slowly walked to the middle of their little fighting ring.

Looking down away from Zevran, she wiped her nose with her right hand then as if on cue he moved first.

Taking a step backwards away from his advancing form she tried to hit him with a direct hit to the face. Calmly, he grabbed her fist, and she tried to hit him with her other fist but he grabbed that too.

"My dear, it seems you have forgotten how to fight." He smiled at her, but she just smiled back.

"No...just got few more tricks up my sleeve." With that she raised her legs, planted them on his stomach, then as he let go of her fists, she pushed with her legs.

The move sent him flying backwards into another table, and as she fell to the ground, she raised her hands above her head to the floor. Then when she felt her hands touch the ground, she flipped her body over so that she landed on her feet facing him. She looked up to see that indeed he had crashed into the other table, his arms on either side of him, with the table squarely in the middle of his back. It also looked like he had spilled someone's ale, as there was now some liquid dripping onto the floor.

Not wasting time, was able to quickly push herself up into a sprint. But he saw her coming, and just as she raised her right fist to hit him, he lifted his left leg to hit her.

At the last second she dropped to her knees. Sliding under his kick, he was able to twirl around above her. He quickly turned around again as she came charging at him for the second time. This time, he wasn't quick enough.

Wynne tackled Zevran to the ground, banging his head against the floor, while she only banged hers on his chest. A little bit dazed, Zevran felt himself slowly get flipped the rest of the way on his back, and some weight drop on his lower stomach. Instinctively, he raised his arms above his face to protect his head just in time. Not one second later, he felt one of her fists hit his arm, then he felt the other. Then as fast as the assault came, he felt her shift weight. Using this opportunity, he was able to wrap one of his legs around hers. He quickly flipped her over to her back, and grabbed each of her wrists.

Pinning both her arms to either side of her head, Zevran couldn't help but smile. One of her legs was still caught up in his, and her other one was desperately trying to kick him off of her, but to no use.

Her green eyes were now a light grass green, with a fire that he had missed seeing. Her pouty pink lips were scrunched up under her little nose. He had seen this face often, and it spoke of both annoyance and anger. Her white hair was starting to spill from the bound of cloth that she had wrapped it in, with a few in her face at that very moment. She struggled against him, but he held her tightly there.

He could feel her soft skin under his, and he couldn't help but smile down at her. No matter what other people said, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And by the Maker did her miss her. So it would be safe to say, that he kissed her. It wasn't some soft peck, oh no. It was a hard, hungry kiss, a kiss that he had waited for since she left his side to go to do her Grey Warden duty. Since the day he saw her fall off that roof in Antiva...

Shock came first to her. The shock of his lips on hers, then the deep passion, and pressure that he forced into the kiss sent her mind reeling. She didn't know exactly what to do. Give into her body that was screaming at her about his very, very close proximity. Or her mind, which was furious at him, and wanted to rip his manhood from his body.

He knew that he had hurt her with what he had done. But he didn't know she was still alive. And now that she was here, alive, in his arms he knew he couldn't let her go down that path of darkness that she was on. It wasn't her. The Wynne he knew and fell in love with, tried to help people. Tried to save as many of them as she could during the Blight, and during the Battle of Deneriem. She had told him that it was because in her clan they needed to stay together. That even if one or three, died or left, the clan would take years to recover. And this...this wasn't her.

He slowly pulled away from her, wanting, searching her eyes that were now turning dark green, for something. Anything. He didn't know what he was searching for, but the brief sadness, quickly followed by rage wasn't it.

Banging her head against his, Wynne quickly felt his hold on her wrists loosen, giving her plenty of time to swing her left arm out, and hit him on the head. He rolled off of her, and his back hit some of the bar stools. He looked over at her, and saw her slowly get up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her green eyes were back to that dangerous grass green, as they squinted back at his dark honey ones. Standing up, she ran over to him, and kicked him the stomach, or chest, she really didn't care. Then she kicked him again, and again, and again. But by the fifth time, he had had enough.

Timing the kick, he grabbed her boot as it came again, and simply flipped her leg up, causing her to lose balance and fall to the floor. Which was a bad move on Zevran's part, as she retaliated with a swift kick with that same foot to his face.

She could feel his nose pop under her boot, but he still didn't let go. Instead he pulled her foot farther to him, twisted it around so the outside of her leg was showing, then raised himself up, and slammed his elbow down right on the side of her twisted knee. Yelling in pain, she twisted her other leg over, and kicked him right in the head. But the damage was already done. She quickly scrambled back, dragging her now painful, more then likely broken right leg away from him.

His face was on the floor, as her last kick had knocked him back into the bar. Her back was against a table, and the only sound you could hear was of her deep breathes, and his grunts as he tried to lift himself from the blood soaked floor.

When he finally raised his head, tears started to fall. "Why?" she whispered, in between her heavy breathing. "WHY?"

He tried to focus on her, but his vision was getting blurry. He didn't answer back, he couldn't. In truth, he didn't have any answer to give her. None. So when she screamed, "WHY!" at him, he looked away from her.

Tears were now falling freely from her face when he looked away from her. "WHY? WHY HER?"

"ma'fen..." he groaned as he tried to sit up.

"NO!" she screamed at him, interrupting what he had to say. "I TOLD YOU NO! You lost that right when I saw you kiss her!" She grinned her teeth, as the pain in her leg was starting to become unbearable. "I searched everywhere for you Zevran! I spent years, PRECIOUS YEARS chasing you all over Thedas! Why couldn't you have waited? And why HER?"

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!"

She froze at that. He finally pushed himself off the ground, and leaned his back against the bar.

"A few months ago in Antiva..." His breathing became labored, as he wrapped one of his arms around the lower part of his chest. "I got your message. Went to meet you. Then..." he turned his head away from her. After a few moments, he looked back. Anger, and grief were welled up in his eyes. "You fell from the roof of one the buildings, into a river. I searched for you for days! I thought you died!"

His words started to sink in, but she couldn't believe it.

"...that wasn't me..."

"What?"

"I said that wasn't me. I was chasing Morrigan across Ferelden two months ago. The only time I have been in Antiva was..." She grunted as she slowly forced herself to stand. Leaning all her weight on her left leg, she tried to walk over to her items, but the pain made her fall. Catching herself on a table, she continued. "...one year ago. After I had to deal with that damn lost Thaig. I sent you a letter, but that was after you killed that Guildmaster."

Using the table as a crutch, she finally made it over to her items. Grabbing her small bag of potions, and her shirt she slid down carefully not wanting to feel anymore pain in her leg. Looking through her bag, she pulled out two potions. One she rolled over to Zevran, while the other she uncorked and quickly downed the contents. As soon as it was empty, she dropped the glass, grabbed her broken right knee, and tried to pop it back, or reset it as best as she could. Finally after a few moments of dulled pain, a faint pop was heard and she quickly unwrapped the leather strips that were bound around her knuckles, and instead wrapped them around her knee. She knew it wasn't going to hold, and that it wasn't the best splint in the world but it was at least something till she got to a healer.

"It wasn't you?"

She smiled and shook her head as she flung her shirt over head. "No, Zevran it wasn't." Standing up, she grabbed her belt, retired it, and started to place all her throwing knives along it. After she retired Dumat's Spine, and Dumat's Claw, she opened her coin purse and placed fifteen sovereigns on the table. As she silently limped away, she unhooked the Emerald earring and tossed it on the ground in front of Zevran.

"Ma'abelas, emma sa'lath..." Was all she said as she limped away from him, and away from the Hanged Man.

She didn't even stop, or turn around, as he yelled, "NO! I WILL NOT LOSE YOU AGAIN! MA'FEN! WYNNE!"

* * *

Ma'fen= My wolf

Velasco= medieval spanish name for crow.

Ma'abelas, emma sa'lath= I am sorry, my one love.


	6. Searching

A/N: Ugh. Sisters! Anyways, here is the next chapter. Sorry for taking so long, and for it being so short! I promise the next one will be longer. With possible fluff...

Anyways, enjoy!

p.s. Again thank you all for the reviews, and alerts, and favoriteing! It brings a smile to my face. :)

* * *

****

"Where did she go?"

Hawke didn't meet Zevran's eyes, as Anders tended yet again to his wounds. She didn't know what to think. One minute she was chatting with Varric, then the next Zevran and the Hero were fighting it out in the middle of the Hanged Man. Hawke rubbed one of her hands to the spot where the Hero's dagger almost pierced her skin, and a cold tingle ran down her spine. She had faced death before, but never did she quite feel so helpless. The only other time was when she saw Carver being smashed upon the rocks like a child's plaything.

"Hawke...where did she go?"

"I have some Guards that saw an elf with your description heading towards the Alienage." Hawke looked up then to see that Aveline had entered Varric's suite. "I can have some Guards there in an hour to search for her, and bring her in if you wish."

"No."

"I wasn't asking you assassin. I was asking Hawke." Aveline didn't even look away from Hawke as she snapped at Zevran. "Well?"

Hawke looked away from Aveline, to Zevran. He was just sitting there with bandages wrapped around his chest while Anders was working on the injuries on Zevran's head, but the look that was in the elf's eyes chilled Hawke even further. She also had noted early on that he held something tight in one of his hands, but both she, and the others that had gathered said nothing.

"No..." she finally said, looking away from Zevran's dead eyes, to Aveline's amber ones. "We will go. Varric, Isabela? You two coming with?"

"Course Kitten," Isabela just nodded where she stood leaning in the doorway.

"And miss the chance to see the Hero in action again? Oh no Hawke. Bianca would never forgive me..." Varric pushed back his chair, and grabbed Bianca strapping her to his back. "She's a huge fan."

"I'm going too."

Surprised Hawke looked from Varric to Zevran who was fighting off Anders, and trying to stand.

"Oh no Elf boy, I say she done and won that round. Don't worry, we will bring her back for round two." Varric tried to laugh at his ill timed joke, but he was the only one.

Ignoring him, and Anders, Zevran walked closer to Hawke. "You don't understand. If I don't stop her now, I will never see her again."

Biting her lip, Hawke saw his dead eyes suddenly flair back to life. She also knew how hard it was to subdue him after the Hero had left. Elbowing her in the stomach, flinging Varric off, it took a quick jab to the back of the skull from Isabela to get him under control. Even after three broken ribs, broken nose, and a very bad concussion, he still was able to fight back.

It tore at her heart to see that he loved this woman so much, that he took a beating just to make her feel better. And now he was going to search for her, wounded and tired, to get her back.

She looked over Zevran's shoulder to Anders who was gathering medical plants, and supplies. Hawke had only seen that kind of devotion between her parents, but never experienced it herself.

"Of course you can come," she breathed, looking back at the assassin. "We will help you get her back."

He didn't say anything just nodded, and turned around. Hawke watched him grab the cream colored shirt that he had taken off for the fight, and put it back on. Then he took whatever was in his hand, and placed it in his pocket with care. Then after a few minutes, Zevran stood straighter, turned and left the room. With no armor, or weapons to speak of. Just his injured self, and the precious item that he had put in his pocket.

"Is it me, or did he just get more attractive?"

* * *

She didn't know how she made it, nor did she want to know. All she knew, was that the numbness from the potion had worn off, and Wynne sat under the huge Vhenadahl in the Alienage in excruciating pain. Her right leg was propped up but she could already see the swelling in her knee, and knew that if she didn't get any help soon, she might not be able to walk. Or even be conscious really.

Other elves had stopped and offered her help, but when she told them what she was looking for, they all just merely shook their heads and apologized. She understood. Really she did. She was a stranger in their town, asking for help, something that they did almost everyday. She was nothing more to them, then just another elf, hurt, alone, and hungry.

Another wave of pain flared in her leg as slowly reached down to her pack and grabbed the loaf of bread that she had stuffed in before the fight. Her hands trembled as she remembered how he felt, how he tasted when he kissed her. Many a nights she slept alone dreaming of him, wishing that he was there with her.

She wished that he was there with her right now. She tried to laugh at her own stupidity for wishing that. He had told her that he thought she was dead, but she didn't know if it was true or not. Her heart told her he wasn't lying, but her mind completely rejected that idea. And just as her brain and heart started to fight again over what he had said, over his begging of her not to go, she heard something that she didn't hear in years.

"...Da'fen?"

Wynne looked up to see Merrill. Oh dear Merrill, standing there with a small ball of twine in her hands.

A smile spread across Wynne's face, as Merrill ran hugged the injured elf.


	7. Girl Talk

A/N: SO SORRY for the long time before the update. I had written this chapter at least three times, trying to figure out how I wanted this story to go, as I have three major different ideas. I finally decided how I want this to go, hopefully I made the right choice. Anyways, hope you like it!

P.S. Only after I read some of your reviews did I realize my mistake in naming my character Wynne. Lol. I named her that because Wynne means 'blessed, white, fair". To me, it now makes more sense with everyone calling her Warden during the Blight, so they don't confuse the two Wynne's. (Making an excuse I know. :) ) Also, I have been trying to find pictures of the different Vallaslin, and I finally found one that fit's Wynne. It is the same as Mithra, from Dragon Age: Origins. :)

* * *

It was three days since her fight with Zevran, and thankfully with Merrill's help, Wynne was able to now stand upright. Walking on the other hand was still a problem. But Wynne was stubborn, a trait that her mother had apparently, and Merrill more then once had to help her stand back up when her knee gave out and she fell.

On one such occasion Wynne had started to call Merrill the nickname that she and Tamlen had called the poor elf girl years ago.

"Thank you Mamae."

"You know...I never really liked it when you two called me that. It made me feel old. And wrinkly."

"But it suited you! You were always fussing over us, and worrying over whether or not we were safe."

"...most of the time you weren't. But fine. If you are to call me that. I will have to call you little wolf."

But that only made Wynne laughed. She had missed Merrill, and her clan during the Blight, so she was thankful to Mythal, that she had protected her clan from that.

Those first few nights the two Elves stayed up just talking. She could tell Merrill was keeping something from her, as one of the three small rooms that Merrill had, was always locked. And whenever Wynne asked about the clan, how the Keeper was, or why Merrill was here instead of being with the clan, Merrill would only shrug her shoulders, and change the topic. Wynne learned to stay away from those topics, and tonight she did just that.

"You both were a little terror you know. I still remember when we three got our Vallaslin. I thought that the Keeper was going to faint when you told her you wanted the writing of Fen'Harel."

"As I recall, all of us were supposed to get it. Instead you took Dirthamen, and Tamlen took Andruil." Wynne took another sip of the awful mead that Merrill had brought home that night from the Hanged Man. They were talking in their native tongue, and after so many years, it felt good to speak it again.

Merrill smiled at that memory and asked, "How did the Keeper talk you out of it? All I saw when they were working on my back, that you were just sitting on that tree stump with your arms folded over your chest and your chin held high." Merrill giggled as she replayed the scene in her mind's eye. "You were so determined to take him, and Tamlen and I couldn't stop laughing at you."

"All I remember is that she told me that there wasn't any Vallaslin to him. I think I told her I didn't care and that I wanted his. That we had made a pact, and we all wanted the same thing."

"Oh...Is that how we each got this?" Merrill rolled up her right arm sleeve to show the same tattoo that Wynne had on her right arm. The small intricate designs of a wolf's paw was dark against Merrill's pale skin, and Wynne only smiled at that.

Wynne nodded as she took another sip. "Yes. The Keeper offered that instead, and gave me June. I remember Tamlen was upset at me, saying that I should have gotten Sylaise instead. Something about, 'What good is it if I kill a deer, and bring it back with no fire to cook it with?"

"Didn't you tell him that it didn't matter since he wouldn't be able to kill it?" Merrill only giggled, and laid her head on her arms that were folded on the table in front of her. "Not without any weapons, that is."

Wynne only nodded as she looked at her hands, smiling at that fond memory. "He became so depressed after that."

"It was because he liked you little wolf."

"I know now. But we were only twelve years old then. I was too worried about my shooting, and my training under Master Ilen to have noticed that. He used to come back from the forest from his training to bring me all kinds of beautiful stones that he had found."

"You two were so cute together. It came no surprise to everyone in the Clan when he presented you that wolf's pelt when he became a Hunter. You remember?"

"How could I not?" Wynne took another sip of the drink as her mind quickly played out the scene for her.

_She was sitting by the fire listening to Paivel tell stories to the children. She was too busy fletching her arrows, worrying about her hunt tomorrow, to notice that he had walked up to her. Only when something dropped in front of her did she jump and look up. _

_He was standing in front of her, breathing heavily with a nervous look on his face. Scratches from the tree branches littered his tattooed face, but the look that he gave her was something that worried her the most. _

_"Tamlen...are you alright?"_

_He didn't say anything just stared at her. Concerned, Wynne looked around to see that Paivel had stopped his lesson for the day, and that the children were dismissed. She also saw that most of the clan had stopped their usual chores and were now slowly gathering around them._  
_"Y-you have been a constant torment to me."_

_With that Wynne looked at him. She felt one of her eyebrows raise in confusion as he continued._

_"Y-you have haunted my night and day dreams with your laughter..." He took a step forward, causing her to take a step back. "...with your smile little wolf. For seven years I have waited, and now..." He closed his mouth, trying to find words, trying to breathe. Wynne's eyes looked to his with concern, and she laid her right hand on his chest to make sure that he was in deed breathing. _

_"Tamlen...are you sick? Hurt? I could go fetch the Keeper..." She turned away from him, but his hands grabbed her, spinning her around to face him. _

_They were so close that their lips were only a finger length apart, and she shivered. His sky blue eyes held her forest green ones for a moment before he whispered, "I am a Hunter now my arrow." She thought her heart skipped, and she knew what he was saying was important, but at that moment, she was too stunned to actually know what he was saying. "I offer this wolf skin, my first kill on my own, to you. Will..." He closed his eyes as he said, "Will you accept me, and be my wife?"_

Silence had fallen between the two elves, until Merrill finally spoke up.

"I am sorry...I shouldn't have brought it up."

Wynne waved and shook her head. "It is fine Merrill. What is past is past." Smiling she tried to stand, but with the effects of the alcohol, and her knee, she all but fell out of her chair. Again.

"You really need to stop doing that!" laughed Merrill, as she ran to Wynne's side and helped her up. Wynne didn't say anything as she was too busy laughing, and soon Merrill was laughing with her.

Wynne hadn't felt so safe, and happy in a long time.

* * *

Zevran stood outside of the house smileing, as he heard the peals of laughter comming from it. He had only talked to Merrill a little before from the previous night. She was weary of him at first, when he first started to ask about his wolf. But after Hawke told her that Zevran was an old friend to Wynne, and that they had a fight, Merrill was more then helpful. He tried to give her money for food, and such, but Merrill had refused them. Saying that she didn't need them to help her friend, her lethallan. Hawke had told him countless of times that Wynne would be ok. Aveline had scheduled an extra shift to the Alienage at night. She or her husband, or both, were usually on that patrol.

He looked over his shoulder to see that they both were on duty tonight. He quickly looked back to the house when he heard a door shut, to see Merrill walking up to him. Her black hair, and shy walk was completely different then the white hair and confidence from his da'fen.

"You know for an assassin hiding in the shadows, you are easy to pick, and figure out."

Zevran only smiled at her. "Only for a lovely flower such as yourself will I step out of the shadows for. How is she?"

"She is fine. She needs to stop trying to walk. I don't know how much falling my floor can take. You know, you should talk to her, or at least see her."

Zevran's smile only deepened when he said, "And how would we do that little flower? She might try to kill me."

Merrill just shrugged as she gave him her key. "I am going to the Hanged Man. Isebela told me that she would teach me how to play Diamond Back tonight." She smiled at him, when she said, "She told me about you. A little bit, and didn't say your name, but I know it was you."

"Oh...did she say I was handsome, and charming?"

"No." The elf girl giggled a little, as she unwound the end of the ball of twine and tied it to one of the stall's post that was behind Zevran. "That she had met someone. Someone that helped her with Tamlen's death, and who was with her at the end with the Archdemon. The only other thing she said was, 'he is more like a wolf, then a crow."

With that Merrill nodded and started to walk away, unrolling that ball of twine as she went. But then she suddenly stopped. Looking over her shoulder she said, "Oh! She did tell me to tell your sneaking around, and trying to unlock the doors at night are keeping her up. And also if it means she can sleep peacefully, she will talk to you. Just...please don't break anything. I like my things the way they are."


	8. Secrets, Secrets are No Fun

A/N: Okay. Just finished the second half, and since it was so short, I re-did this chapter. Also sorry about if I miss spelled Amarathine, or Morrigan. Will revise later. I promise :)

* * *

She didn't think he would actually come in, and talk to her. She was just calling his bluff, but there he was. Sitting across the table from her, waiting. She didn't want to look at him yet so she took another sip of her mead, and watched the fire dance in the fireplace. She didn't know how to start, and from the long silence since she heard him sit down, she could tell that he didn't know how to either.

"Did you want to talk or no? If not, I can leave."

She still refused to look at him.

She heard him get up, push back the chair, and start to walk away.

"No...wait..." She tried to stand, but her knee buckled again, and she had to grab the chair for support. She couldn't look at him. Not like this. Not like a weak, injured elf that she was. He had once said that he fancied strong, beautiful things. And at this moment, she was anything but that. "I-I..." She couldn't think of the words that she had wanted to say to him. She clutched to the chair like it was some kind of anchor for her. Something that would give her strength. Her! The Dalish Grey Warden that killed the Archdemon, needed strength from a chair to face him. She was mortified at herself for acting like this, then what she had planned. A punch to face, spitting in his face, or even kicking him between his legs were better for her to act, then a cowardly little girl.

When she finally looked up at him, it was even harder for her to think. Quickly her heart killed any of the idea's that her brain had come up with, and it had left Wynne stunned. Instead she now focused on the light of the fire as it danced with the shadows on his face. Swallowing, she said, "Why are you even here?"

A sad smile appeared on his face as he took a step towards her. "I wanted to talk to you ma'fen. I was told that if I wanted to talk to you, to come. So...here I am."

Wynne felt the tears threatening to spill when she heard him call her the nickname that Tamlen had given her years ago. "Please don't call me that."

"And why not? You will always be my wolf. I know I have hurt you, that I have broken your trust, but let me gain it back." Zevran held out his arms in a pleading gesture that she had only seen him do only once before.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Her right leg was starting to shake, a sign that it would soon give in. He didn't answer her right away as Wynne slowly tried to ease herself into the seat of the chair she was clinging onto. But it was too late. Her knee finally gave out, and she fell to the floor.

As if it was any other time, during the Blight, Tamlen's death, dealing with Taliesin, and the final battle ontop of Fort Drakkon, they were side by side. His arms were wrapped around her, slowly helping her up, and Wynne's heart finally won the battle over her mind.

Their eyes never left the other's, as they stood up. Wynne's mouth was partially opened when he suddenly leaned in and kissed her. Finally the tears came, streaking down her tattooed face like small rivers. It wasn't a deep kiss. Not this time. It was more gentle, with his lips barely touching hers. He didn't pull back far, and she didn't pull away either.

"Emma vhenan..." he whispered, gently wiping away her tears. "I do not have an excuse for my actions. But I will prove to you that I love you."

"How?" Wynne blinked and stared into his golden brown eyes. She wanted to believe him, her heart wanted to believe him more then anything. "How can I trust you again? I-I...Zevran...but how?"

Wynne saw him flinch, as if she had slapped him across the face. She couldn't tell him that she still cared for him. That in truth, her heart screamed that she still loved him, but only now she understood that she did. He didn't like to hear that she didn't trust him, but it was true. He didn't want to hear from her, how much damage he had done one night.

"Where have you been Zev? Why didn't you come back?"

Zev could barely smirk as he looked to his love. "I couldn't. I still can't go back. Not yet." He gently tucked a loose band of white hair behind her ear.

"Can I come with you then?"

He didn't say anything just shook his head no, and that infuriated her. "Why not?"

He grimaced and looked away from her, not wanting to tell her the many reasons why she of all people, the one person that he would do anything for, cannot come with him.

"Does it have to do with what you think you saw in Antiva?"

He turned from her, letting her go. "I know what I saw in Antiva."

"But it wasn't me!"

"It could have been!" He turned back around upset. "The Crows are not something to trifle with. If they find you, they will use you to get to me. They will torture you, they will string you up in a public place and humiliate you, to get to me. And I cannot allow that to happen."

"Is that why...is that you left? Because you thought I was a liability? I killed the Archdemon and lived Zevran!" She tried to catch his eyes again, but he turned around when she spoke. "When I should have died I lived! Against all odds I helped end the Blight, put Alistair on the throne, saved the City of Amarathine from the Darkspawn, destroyed those creatures in that lost Thiag, and I found Morrigan!"

That last bit caught his attention.

"You found Morrigan?"

"She stole some sacred relic from a fellow Dalish Keeper, and I helped find her." Confusion swiftly overwhelmed Wynne, as she watched Zevran's emotions on his face change from anger to worry. "Why do you ask?"

"Did she tell you anything?"

"No...just that she was glad to see me. And that she is a mother."

"Nothing else?"

"No." She couldn't look away from him as her mind won out the current battle. Suddenly things started to come into place. She recalled seeing him pleading with Alistair, and Morrigan the night before the Battle of Denerim. She had seen the look on Alistair's face, the anger, the resentment whenever he looked to either Zevran or Morrigan. She didnt hear what they were talking about, as she had went searching for Zevran, after finding that he wasn't there with her in bed. The only part she did catch was what she read on Morrigan's lips.

_"tis the only way..."_

"What...did...you...do?"

* * *

Merrill was giggling like she always did, as Varric and Isabela walked her home that night. She had too much to drink, and they just wanted to make sure that their Dasiy had made it safely home. With the help of twine or not.

But as they made it to her house, the merry, fun loving mood was quickly whisked away with the evening breeze as they heard glass shattering from inside of the house.

"Oh...I did ask him not to break my things," Merrill all but sighed as she, and her two friends listened to the yelling match that was going on inside.

_"HOW COULD YOU?"_

_"IT WAS THE ONLY WAY TO SAVE YOU!"_

_"BY BLOOD MAGIC? YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT ANY SORT OF BLOOD MAGIC!"_

_"I DID IT TO SAVE YOU!"_

_"SAVE ME? SAVE ME? DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE JUST DONE? YOU JUST BARGAINED ALL OF THEDAS FOR NOTHING!"_

_"NOT NOTHING! YOU! DA'FEN."_

_"DON'T SAY THAT."_

_"WHY NOT? WHY CAN'T I CALL YOU THAT?"_

_"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"_

_"WHY ARE YOU SO ANGRY? YOU ARE ALIVE ARE YOU NOT?"_

_"YES BUT YOU'VE MADE A DEAL, A PACT WITH THE WRONG GOD ZEVRAN. FEN'HERAL ALWAYS WINS! YOU JUST GAVE HIM THE FUTURE!"_

_"WHAT DID HE WIN THIS TIME? HMM? HE MIGHT HAVE TAKEN YOUR PRECIOUS TAMLEN, AND YOUR CLAN WITH THAT MIRROR, BUT YOU FORGET MA'FEN THAT HE ALSO GAVE YOU A MISSION! A MISSION THAT BROUGHT GLORY AND RESPECT TO THE DALISH THAT WAS TAKEN FROM YOU. HE ALSO GAVE YOU FRIENDS WHO LOVE YOU! AND HE GAVE YOU ME! I WOULD SEE THE WHOLE WORLD BURN TO MAKE SURE YOU ARE ALIVE. DO NOT DOUBT IT!"_

Silence finally rang throughout the house, and the three listening into the fight were all shocked. Varric and Isebela had exchanged glances to each other when a mirror was mentioned, and the same thought both crossed their minds about it. But Merrill, poor Merrill was standing there, fiddling with her hands, staring at the door. Her face was white as fresh snow, and her eyes were huge waiting for whatever was to come next.

Some mumbling was heard, and only Varric could hear something about a joining ritual, only having around fifteen years left, and not dealing with this now. "Not while everything is still fresh."

He couldn't make out what the assassin was saying, as it was now mostly in fast Antivan. Then suddenly the door was opened, and out limped the Hero. Her face was visibly wet, from crying Varric could only guess, and her jaw was set tight. In one of her hands she carried a highly decorated bow, with a quiver tied around her back. She was having difficulty standing, let alone walking but that didn't stop her. She didn't even look at the three standing there when she stormed out, she just kept walking.

The assassin wasn't too far behind her. His immaculate hair looked like he had run his hand through it a few times, and as he followed the Hero out into the main part of the Alienage, he quickly grabbed her arm, and spun her around. "I don't care if you have only fifteen years before the Calling. It's still fifteen more I have with you, then if we didn't do it!"

"I'm dead either way Zevran, but you just gave the world to him for only have a few more years. Years of which you've wasted. Years I've wasted. And from where I'm standing...I don't think this..." she pointed between herself and him, "...has years. Or even days. You want to win my trust back, want to win me back, you better get started because you have a long way to go."

And with that, the Hero yanked her arms free from the assassin and limped off.

* * *

emma vhenan-my heart


	9. Long Night

A/N: I am so sorry it took forever for this to finally be updated, and for it to be so short! Believe it or not, I have spent days trying to figure out how to start this chapter, and after reworking the same idea about the hundreth time, I finally decided to stop being stubborn, and start all over again. Lol. And finally here it is! There are probobly errors, as it tends to be after re-reading it alot, and only to find any errors after I post. I will fix them as soon as I see them, or if someone points it out, that would be awesome! (Improving grammer and spelling one step at a time :) )

Again, a huge thank yous to all the reviewers, and people who put this story on favs and alerts, you were all the drive to quickly get his chapter up. So with no futhur ado...here you go. :)

Note: Bioware owns basicly everything.

* * *

The stars were fading away, as the sun slowly appeared over the horizon. It had been a long night for both Zevran, and Wynne. He had wanted to follow her, but he knew that he was already pushing whatever boundry that he had left with her.

Scowling more to himself, he continued his pacing in the main living room of Merrill's house. He prayed to any God that would listen to have her come back to him.

He didn't want that horrible secret to get out, he didn't want to ever let her know of what he did to protect her. Ever since the Deep Roads, after dealing with the Broodmother, he knew that he had to protect her. That he had to protect his little wolf from anything, including other Crows that couldn't wait to feed on her carcass. In that moment, when he supported half her weight, that that was his duty. After all the years of killing, sneaking, and committing the greatest of all treason, and then to be given one last chance at love not a few months later was something that he would never understand.

How could something so lovely, and pure, love him? Willingly give her life just to make sure he was happy and safe?

He couldn't fathom it. So it came naturally that when he overheard the final death of the Archdemon, and the reason why Grey Wardens are needed, he had to save her.

_Morrigan had found him in the libary, pulling book after book, searching for anything that would help him. To save the person that he had finally admitted to himself that he indeed loved. _

_"You love her."_

_"I do not know what you are talking about." he said not fully paying attention to her, as he scanned another tale of the Grey Wardens._

_"Why else would the Assassin be reading on the eve of battle?"_

_He didn't say anything in response to her as he flipped the page and scanned it in a matter of seconds. Anger, desperation, and greif flooded his mind as he slammed the book shut, not at all happy over what he had read. Standing he pushed all the books off the table in anger, then sat down with his head in his hands. He closed his eyes as he felt the sadness start to rot his heart. _

_"I know how to save her."_

_He looked up at her at that one. The typical smile of a mask that he wore was gone, but he didn't care as he heard Morrigan say again, "I know how to save her."_

_He quickly stood back up and walked around the table to her, but before he could say anything, to plead for her help, she spoke again. _

_"Only on four conditions."_

_"Name them." He didn't hesitate. If she was a demon, he would have sold his soul gladly to know that his little wolf, or what Leliana called the "Rose of Ferelden," safe. _

_"One, you must help me convince Alistar to join me in the ritual. I need to sleep with him, to become pregnant with a Grey Warden's child in order for this to work. Two, you must never let her come after me, or come after me yourself. After the battle tommarow, I am gone. Understand?"_

_"Yes."_

_Morrigan continued, even though now her voice had more emotion in it then he ever heard on their long journey. "Three, you must protect her. We both know what she is like, and I don't think I could bare to see her die tomorrow before I could help her. And finally four..." Her golden eyes locked his, and when she spoke the last requirement, he couldn't believe what she was saying. "I love her like a sister, and I refuse to let her die because of some fool says that what I am about to do is wrong. Tell me now Elf...do you love her."_

_"Yes."_

_"Will you always be there for her?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You swear it? Because if you so much as hurt her once I am gone, and I hear about it, I will track you down, and feed your insides to scavengers while you are still alive. Do I make myself clear?"_

_"She must never find out."_

_"On that we can agree."_

_"Good." He didn't look away from her yellow bird like eyes. He couldn't_

_"Do we have a deal then Zevran?"_

_"We have a deal."_

"Zevran! We found her!"

Zevran stopped in his tracks, and quickly turned around to see Hawke, Merrill, Fenris, and the dwarf Varric standing in the recently opened door. "She's at the Wounded Coast, but we have to move!"

"Why what's wrong?"

Dread swelled in his heart when Hawke said, "Slavers caught her."

* * *

She didn't have to argue with anyone at this point if they saw her. No, she would agree. She was a fool. Going hunting on the Wounded Coast, which she knew was frequented by slavers, at night, with a broken leg, was anything but wise.

When she was jumped about an hour after she retrieved her rabbit kill, she was only able to kill at least two, and severely cripple three before she was overpowered and dragged to whatever cave she was in now.

When she opened her eyes, and slowly pushed herself to sit up, did she notice her hands tied behind her back, her mouth wasn't bound, and there was a small elf child crying beside her. She also noticed that she was in a cage, made from what looked like dried saplings. As she scooted over to the cliff wall that made up the other wall of the cage she noticed that all her gear, and clothes except her chest bindings, and small pants, were gone. She prayed to Mythal that they didn't find her four bone picks hidden in her chest bindings.

Wynne looked at the small child, to notice that she was covered in blood. Proboly from her mother, and that the girl couldn't be older than two years. Which just made Wynne pray even more.

She had the same dark green eyes that was typical among elves, especially the Dalish, but Wynne could not tell what color her hair was in, as it was caked, and stained in the crimson blood. Wynne also noted her left eye was swollen, and that even though tears were falling down the young girl's face, she wasn't making a sound.

When knew she had to scan the room, but right now, all her attention was focused on the little elf girl that was staring at her. Cooing softly to the little girl, Wynne started to hum her favorite song, and couldn't help but smile a little bit when saw that the girl crawled across the floor.

Heartbroken over the little elf girl, Wynne could only nuzzle the poor girls head with her own, as the small child slowly curled up in Wynne's lap.

Wynne brought her knees to up, forcing the girl to lay on Wynne's chest, with the girl's head resting right below her neck. Arms still bound, she slowly rocked the girl side to side, while softly singing a song that was sung to her when she was little.

It was a long night.

It was indeed a long night for everyone.


	10. Fen'Harel

A/N: I am so sorry it took forever for this to finally be updated, and for it to be so short! Believe it or not, I have spent days trying to figure out how to start this chapter, and after reworking the same idea about the hundreth time, I finally decided to stop being stubborn, and start all over again. Lol. And finally here it is! There are probobly errors, as it tends to be after re-reading it alot, and only to find any errors after I post. I will fix them as soon as I see them, or if someone points it out, that would be awesome! (Improving grammer and spelling one step at a time :) )

Again, a huge thank yous to all the reviewers, and people who put this story on favs and alerts, you were all the drive to quickly get his chapter up. So with no further ado...here you go. :)

Note: Bioware owns basically everything.

* * *

It was no easy feat, falling asleep in that cage surrounded by crying, kidnapped elves. But somehow she did.

_ She could feel the cold water of the river flowing over her bare feet, as she looked around the Fade's Forest that surrounded her. Her hair was braided, and tied back in her clan's Traditional way for Hunters. Her markings sparked to life at times, and dulled almost to black at others. Fog engulfed her sight as she quietly, and slowly lifted her right foot out of the chilly water. Her back was arched, ears perked up, listening, waiting for that one thing that she knew, just knew, was waiting and watching her. _

_She whispered prayers to all the Gods, as her green eyes scanned the horizon. The silence in the air, the chill that ran down her spine was anything but comforting. Slowly lowering her foot, in the river she lifted her other foot, and then words seemingless came to her mind. _

_"...My pack is lost..."_

_The river didn't slow, nor did the temperature change around her. Nothing at all changed in Fade's Fog, nothing at all except the silence. The words that spilled from her lips echoed around her as each line slowly came to her mind. Her head jerked up when she heard the snap of a twig just ahead of her. _

_"The young pup..." Came a growl that cleared the fog that was starting to suffocate her. "...has grown." _

_She slowly settled both of her feet to the river bed, but didn't relax her stance. She slowly started to circle in the river when the growl continued. "...my poor blessed wolf pup, has become tainted by the Forgotten Ones. Now...now she is broken. Tell me...what has made my fierce daughter, my beloved daughter broken? Tell me so that I can hunt them down, and tear out their throats."_

_She didn't answer as another twig snapped, followed by a soft rustle of leaves to her right. _

_"Was it the humans that have made you so tainted. So dark, and decaying?"_

_"No." She spoke, her voice rising to be heard over the now frequent noise of whatever being it was coming to her through the bush. "It was Fen'Harel."_

_"Me?"_

_Wynne's eyes widened as she saw the beast slowly emerge to the edge of the river's bed. It was unlike any wolf, or dog she had ever seen. It wasn't massive, but it certantly was as big as the werewolves she had encountered in Ferelden. But instead of walking on two legs, it walked on four like any other wolf would. Scars, and pieces of fur was missing from his snout, and scars were seen lined all over his body. But the thing that terrified her the most, was the coloring of his fur. Instead of the usual black, grey, or even white, his fur was green. Dark green, and light green mixed together, and when he shook his fur, sparkles of gold, and black were seen. His eyes were of soft amber, and as he sat down on his haunches he tilted his head and spoke. _

_"How have I caused you to be tainted my pup?" _

_She didn't speak up as her eyes searched his. Never in her wildest thoughts, did she expect to face Fen'Harel. She was always told that Fen'Harel was a God of tricks. That he was the main reason of her people being treated like they were. That he was the reason why she lost Tamlen, and her clan. Forced to become a Grey Warden, and die in the bowels of the earth when the calling came. But from the way he sat, the reflection of sadness in his voice, she couldn't believe that he had done it all. Could he?_

_"The mirror," she finally spoke up. Her body was starting to shake for her nerves in front of this powerful god. "The mirror that Tamlen, my dead husband, touched in that cave so long ago. It was-"_

_"Cursed with the Forgotten One's evil." He looked away from her for a minute then sighed. "You were the only one to believe in me, and I watched you. You may not believe me now when I say that it wasn't I who lead you into that cave. Nor was it I that took Tamlen from you. But it was me that had protected you from the Forgotten ones curse, and it was me that lead Duncan to you." He looked back at her then. "I choose your life over two dwarfs, over two humans, and over another fellow elf. I believed that you were the one to help with the war against the Forgotten Ones. That you were the only one strong enough to wage the war that was ahead, unite the lands, and kill two of them. I knew your heart was broken, and I healed it with the Crow's song. I have given you much my pup, that I have come to love you as my daughter. If I have indeed caused you pain it was not intentional._

_"Prepare for the war coming up my pup. The Forgotten Ones are not done yet." With that, Fen'Harel slowly lifted himself back up, and turned to go back into the forest. _

_"I thought the Forgotten Ones were locked up? That you tricked them and locked them in the earth."_

_He turned his head to side making his scars more pronounced against the now black fur. "Everything eventually breaks down and decays pup. Even prisons. Remember that."_

A quick kick to the cage woke Wynne, and the girl in her lap with a jolt. By waking her up suddenly the girl started to cry, which just mad the slavers snap at Wynne, "Shut that thing up!"

Under normal circumstances a quick remark would have landed her with slap to the face, and being dragged out the cage. Which she could have killed the two standing in front of her, and escape before anyone was the wiser.

But her leg was still healing, and she didn't want to harm the crying child. So instead, she bent her knees, bringing the child closer to her, rocking her gently as she hummed. The child eventually calmed, but the slavers didn't leave. She was wondering why they were standing outside her cell, but when she saw a Tevinter mage come and stand beside the two, she knew.

They where appraising her.

"So this is the elf that caused so much trouble. See, I told you if you put her with the elf pup, the bitch would mother it, and we lose her aggressive nature, and the pup would shut up."

The other two didn't respond, as the Mage squatted to Wynne's eye level. Her green eyes narrowed at him, while her knees brought the girl closer to her.

"You know what...I think I will keep this one."

"But sir, three other Magisters would be willing to pay at least ten sovergins for her!"

"And send this fine specimen to the front lines, or wasted in some ritual for some lowly Magister? No. She's mine."

"Let me go..." Wynne warned, her eyes narrowing to dangours slits.

"Ohh...this bitch has some fire...can you imagine the offspring we could get from her..."

A deadly smile graced her lips as she said the only thing that came to her mind. "I don't think the Grey Wardens, or King Alistair of Ferelden, will appreciate their Commander and Hero of Ferelden as a slave."

"I bet not bitch..." He tisked bringing one of his hands to his face. He sighed as he looked at her again. "It really just drives the price for you up nothing more. Which is good, since I hear that Grey Wardens cannot have children, and to any other Magister in the Imperium that would be a deal breaker."

She felt her heart slowly start to beat fast. She needed help since her declaration of her identity just slowly sealed her fate, she just blurted the only thing that came to her mind. "True. But pissing off the Antivan Crows is also a deal breaker I hear."

"And why is that?" The grin on his face she just wanted to punch off.

But when she said, "Just saying that the Guildmaster is sure to kill you once he finds out that his wife, is missing, and has been sold into slavery." The smile quickly fell on its own accord.

"Well..." he said after a brief silence, "Then I guess it is safe to say that you won't leave here alive."

He motioned to one of the guards that was on either side of him, but when the mage turned around, all he saw was the blood gurgling bodies, and one figure that Wynne couldn't help but smile at.

"No..." Zevran said as he walked up to the mage, holding both his daggers at his side. "I think she will leave here alive..."


End file.
